


Two Men and a Space Heater

by Ferus37



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Stakeout, heating up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 16:59:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18898846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferus37/pseuds/Ferus37
Summary: John is cold and decides to do something about it. Sherlock is cold and decides to do something about it too. The two men don't have the same approach, but they share a common objective; heating up.





	Two Men and a Space Heater

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Peckishdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peckishdragon/gifts).



“That's so pedestrian, John.” Sherlock's tone was haughty, as it often was when talking about 'normal' things.  
“Sherlock, it's 10 below zero outside, we're in an empty house in expectation of a several hour long stakeout, and all we have is a blanket. One blanket.” John lifted the too-thin blanket to make his point. “I'm not keen on freezing to death trying to catch a criminal.”  
“You could go home. There's a fireplace.” Sherlock sounded reasonable, and John had just the slightest urge to smack him.  
“No.” John considered and rejected elaborating. “Just, no.”  
“I don't think this place has power.” He sounded sincere, but John knew Sherlock never would have missed something as obvious as whether or not the building had power.  
“It does.” John recalled his pee break earlier, and the pleasant surprise that waited for him. “The bathroom light worked. Don't ask me why or how it has power, but it does.”  
“Would you like me to explain to you how electricity works, the power distribution grid, and maybe power companies?” His tone said he knew he was being an ass, and liked it.  
“You can put the snark away, or I'll hog the blanket all night.” John held up the thin piece of fabric again. “The single blanket we have.”  
“I have a good coat.” Sherlock flipped up his collar. “Maybe you should have brought a better coat.”  
“I'm going out to buy a heater.” John got up and hurried out, avoiding further conversation on the subject. 

It wasn't until he was on the way back that John realized Sherlock hadn't warned him about not being seen on his little expedition. Could it be he was trusted to be sensible, and skilled enough to pull it off? He could ask about it when he got back, or just ignore it and pretend that was the reason. He had been careful. He'd gone on foot, stayed in the shadows, kept a look out for people, taken little used roads, and gone further than he needed to to get the heater. He felt rather proud of himself. He wondered if Sherlock would be proud of him too. He wondered if Sherlock would ever actually tell him he was proud of him, even if it was true. The final thing he wondered before going back into the house was if Sherlock would show appreciation for the heater, or if he'd be stubborn and pretend it wasn't necessary. It wasn't above him to be stubborn. 

What John saw when he entered the room they had chosen for the stakeout surprised him. Sherlock was huddled in his coat, and looked cold. He looked up when John walked in.  
“Took you long enough.” He shivered a little. “Did you go to Scotland to get it?”  
“I was being careful to not be seen.” John put the box down and started opening it.  
“I'm sure you did a marvelous job. Plug it in.” Sherlock waved his hand in the direction of the nearest outlet.  
“Was that sarcasm I heard?” He paused in his unpacking.  
“No. Plug it in.” A more urgent wave this time.  
“Didn't you say you have a good coat?” John crossed his arms, just to be annoying.  
“Obviously not good enough.” Sherlock shivered again, more pronounced this time. “Why isn't the heater plugged in yet?”  
“Why didn't you use the blanket?” John pointed to where it was lying on the floor, where he had left it.  
“John, am I going to have to take it from you and plug it in myself?” Sherlock sat up straighter. He crossed his arms and rubbed his upper arms with his hands, in a perfect display of someone too cold.  
“No, I'll do it.” John resumed his unpacking of the heater. “Stop being so bloody impatient.”  
“I am dying of hypothermia. Patience could kill me.” Sherlock sounded so petulant that John almost snorted.  
“It's a good thing you never exaggerate.” He got the inner plastic wrapping off, and went to plug the heater into the wall. 

When he turned it on the heat from it was almost immediate. It was one of those small things that sat on the floor and blew hot air at your legs. He turned it so it was aimed right next to Sherlock, instead of at him. When he made as if to move John stopped him with a gesture. He picked up the blanket and spread it on the floor next to Sherlock, and then indicated that he should sit on it. Sherlock did as he was told and settled on the blanket. He sat cross legged, still huddled in his coat, quivering slightly. John sat on his knees behind him and wrapped his arms around him. Sherlock stopped trembling.  
“John, what are you doing?”  
“Sharing body heat.” John rested his chin on Sherlock's shoulder. “Of course, it would work better if we didn't have these bloody coats between us.”  
“Wouldn't we get colder without the coats on?” Sherlock's tone clearly said he knew exactly what John was getting at.  
“We could share one coat.” John lowered the coat's collar and moved his face closer to Sherlock's neck.  
“Whose coat should we choose?” Sherlock leaned his head to the side very slightly; giving John better access.  
“I don't know. Which coat would you prefer?” John moved even closer. He considered and rejected making something of how many times the word 'coat' had been uttered in the last two minutes. He could smell skin and aftershave.  
“Mine's bigger.” Sherlock's voice had a smile in it.  
John chuckled. It couldn't even be called innuendo, but it was funny in a stupid sort of way. He didn't feel embarrassed at being childish like this, because he knew Sherlock had done it on purpose. 

John reached around Sherlock and started unbuttoning his coat for him. Sherlock made a contented sound and didn't move. John felt the warm air from the heater hit his cool hands. He hadn't warmed up from the walk yet, which wasn't strange, considering the room they were in had been only marginally warmer than outside up until a few moments ago. The heater was doing a good job at fixing that already. When he had the coat unbuttoned he simply slid it off Sherlock's arms and let it fall to the floor. Then he started working on his shirt. Sherlock reached behind him and ran his hands up John's thighs; before starting to unbutton his shirt in return. John was mildly impressed at how nimble Sherlock's fingers were, considering he was working behind his back, but then, it was Sherlock. John's lips finally made contact with the other man's neck. He gently sucked on it. A part of him had an urge to mark Sherlock. The possessive part of him. 

They got each others' shirts open and untucked at almost the same time. John hesitated. The room was still cold, so maybe taking the shirts off wasn't the best idea. Instead he urged Sherlock to turn around to face him. He did as he was told. Sherlock's longer legs easily arched over John's thighs and wrapped loosely around him. John scooted closer. He curved his legs lightly around Sherlock's bottom, so he could pull him closer easily without using his hands. They were close enough that they only had to lean forward to kiss. They did so with little hesitation. While their lips and tongues were occupied, their hands started roaming each others' bodies. John searched out Sherlock's nipples and ran his thumbs over them. Sherlock made a sound in his throat, so he did it again. Sherlock didn't waste time. His hands went straight for John's trousers and started undoing them. With the temperature in the room being what it was, John didn't mind getting straight to the point. He moved his hands down and cupped Sherlock's growing erection through his trousers. He first rubbed gently, but didn't waste much time before rubbing more roughly. He felt Sherlock's cock harden against the fabric to the point where he was sure it must be getting uncomfortable. This was confirmed by Sherlock squirming and growling in his ear.  
“John, if you don't open them I will.”  
“Patience, Sherlock.” John rubbed the bulge again.  
“I don't know what that is.” Sherlock slid his hand into John's pants and wrapped his fingers around the cock that was straining to get out of them.  
“Maybe I should teach you?” Even as he said it, John was moving to undo the button on the trousers, slowly.  
“No.” Sherlock emphasized the word by squeezing John's cock until he couldn't stop from groaning in discomfort.  
“Okay, right, I get it. No patience.” He wasted no more time undoing the trousers and pulling Sherlock's penis out of its prison. 

They sat stroking each other for an undefined length of time. Touching, squeezing, pulling; breathing into each others mouths while their tongues played with each other. The room felt warm now, but that might be just the hot blood rushing through his veins. The heat from Sherlock's skin and hands. That or it was simply that they were sitting in the middle of the heater's air flow. That last one was probably it, truth be told. John stopped what he was doing long enough to pull off Sherlock's shirt. Sherlock didn't protest, or claim it made him cold. Looking at the shirtless man panting in front of him, and feeling the warm air hit his body, John knew what he wanted. He wanted Sherlock on top of him. He leaned in and captured Sherlock's lips again, before leaning further and murmuring in his ear.  
“Sherlock... ride me.”  
The reply was an amused low sound. That breath that was almost a laugh. It turned John on even more. Both the sound of it, and the knowledge Sherlock was going to give him what he wanted. That sound meant “yes”. 

Sherlock got up from his position, only to sit down on his knees between John's legs. He pulled John's trousers and pants off while moving down closer to the heater. When John was naked from the waist down, Sherlock sat up. When John made to move too, Sherlock stopped him, by leaning down and wrapping his lips around John's cock. John gasped in surprise, and ended up just flopping down onto his back on the cold floor. He felt Sherlock lay down between his legs. He put his elbow on the floor next to John's hip and used it to support himself while he languidly sucked his cock. He used his free hand to draw circles on John's stomach with his nails. John let himself get lost in sensation. The hot air hitting his legs, the ice cold floor against his back, the other man's weight on him, and the glorious heat of his mouth. Sherlock, ever talented in just about anything requiring physical finesse, knew exactly how to use his tongue in the right places, and when to suck hard, and combined it with just the right pressure with his nails. After only a few short minutes John was ready to come. He grabbed Sherlock's hair; not sure if it was to stop him or urge him on. His wish to have the other man on top of him had faded into oblivion, along with any sense he might have once possessed. It wasn't important. The only important thing right now was to have an orgasm. To come down Sherlock's throat as it worked around the head of his cock. He pulled on Sherlock's hair, trying to get him to suck him further into his mouth. He was so close now he could feel his balls tightening in preparation for the release. 

Then Sherlock was off him. He had easily gotten out of John's ecstasy loosened grip and sat up. John was shocked, speechless, deprived. He felt flat out offended. He sat bolt upright, erection and all.  
“What the hell was that?”  
“That was me getting ready to give you what you want.” Sherlock sounded very reasonable.  
“No. That was you being an arsehole. You knew I was about to come!”  
Sherlock grinned, and John actually lifted his hand to punch him before getting himself under control.  
“You can't do something like that to a person, Sherlock.” John tried to sound calm. Like he was giving a life lesson. Not like he was sitting here with a hardon so raging it was hurting him, and trying to spread its rage to John's other head while it was at it.  
“You're saying that as if I do these sorts of things with other people.” Sherlock frowned at him, and John was fairly sure the look of hurt on his face was entirely false. The bastard was enjoying this.  
“Sherlock. My balls are screaming at me right now, and I'm pretty sure you injured something by suddenly getting off me like that.” John took a deep breath. “Do not push it.”  
“I feel fine.” Sherlock smirked, and John's hand twitched with the need to hit him.  
“I don't!” He closed his eyes and took another deep breath. His erection was fading in his anger, and that made him slightly angrier. He opened his eyes, shot out his hand and grabbed Sherlock by the throat. He pulled him closer. “You. Fix this. Now.”  
“That was the plan.” Sherlock smirked again, but looked ever so slightly uncertain.  
“Now, Sherlock!” John tightened his grip on Sherlock's throat for a moment before letting go. 

Sherlock got up, and John barely suppressed his urge to yell at him again. He would give him a moment to do something useful. A moment. Sherlock went over to the heater and pulled it closer. Then he put his coat on the floor behind John, and pushed John back onto his back. John let himself be pushed. He was calming down. He looked up at Sherlock from his new position. Things were moving in the right direction. Then again, they had been moving in a great direction a short while ago. Sherlock was a fascinating person. He was too smart for his own good. He was complicated. He was a much better person than he pretended to be. He was fun to be with. And, he could be the biggest wanker John had ever met. 

Sherlock moved until he was standing between John's legs. He was hard, and John thought he could see moisture about to drip from the tip of his cock. He had an urge to sit up and lick it off. Sherlock looked at John with a slight frown on his forehead. Then he grabbed John's legs and yanked him closer to the heater. John raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. The blanket had bunched up against his ass, but he couldn't be bothered moving to fix it. Sherlock tugged a little on the blanket, but barely smoothed it before he nodded in a satisfied manner. John was somewhat at a loss for words at the sloppy preparation that was happening right now. He suspected Sherlock was being a wanker again. Taking his time doing pointless things on purpose, to frustrate further. John was pondering the merits of yelling at him again when Sherlock straddled him and sat down. John now had a lap full of Sherlock, and no longer had the urge to yell. He had the urge to do something else entirely, and if Sherlock didn't help in that endeavor, and soon, there would be hell to pay. Sherlock leaned down and very gently kissed John's lips.  
“I'm sorry. For being annoying.”  
“I'll tell you if I forgive after I've come.”  
Sherlock grinned and kissed him again, before rummaging in one of the pockets of the coat John was lying on. He pulled out a small bottle of blueish liquid and grinned wider. John recognized what it was and grinned too. Now they were getting somewhere. 

Sherlock scooted back enough that he had easy access to both their cocks. John's was mostly limp by now, through no damn fault of his own. Depending on what Sherlock did next, he might conceivably hold a grudge for a while. Sherlock poured some of the gelatinous liquid onto his hand. He looked at it, blew on it, and then quickly took hold of John's cock. The gel was flat out cold, and all the muscles up John's back tensed.  
“Oh my god, this is not the way you fix things!”  
“Patience.”  
“Fuck you.”  
Sherlock laughed. He used his thumb to apply pressure along the ridge of John's cock while spreading the lubricant all over it. Within seconds John was hard again. He stifled a moan as Sherlock continued rubbing; almost afraid to get too into it again. His doubt might have shown on his face, because Sherlock let him go after a moment. John looked at him, not sure if he should say something. Sherlock smiled and poured more lube onto his fingers. He sat up just enough to get access to his own entrance, and spread it on and into it. John tensed in anticipation. He wasn't sure it should be legal to want someone as much as he wanted Sherlock right now. As much as he wanted him on a general basis, if he were to be honest about it. Sherlock finished what he was doing and moved until he was poised above John's cock, with it pushing against his hole. He said there, in essence displaying his thigh strength; smiling cheekily. 

John had had enough bullshit for one day and took steps. He grabbed Sherlock's hips and practically yanked him down onto himself, while pushing up. There was a satisfying slap of flesh as he seated himself completely in one thrust. Sherlock's head fell back, and he moaned. His arms went momentarily limp, before he placed them on John's chest. He lifted his head again and looked at John. John looked back.  
“Sherlock, if you move off me before I come inside you, I swear to god...” He let the threat hang.  
Sherlock smirked in reply, and tightened his muscles around the erection currently balls deep inside him. John urged him to start moving, only not too far upwards. Sherlock complied. He followed John's movements carefully, until they settled into a comfortable rhythm. John's earlier urgency was slow to return, and at the moment he didn't miss it. He was where he wanted to be, doing what he wanted to do, with the person he most wanted to be with, and do it with. Sherlock was smiling down at him; all earlier smirks and mischief replaced with warmth and lust. John tilted his head slightly upward in a way he hoped signaled he wanted to be kissed. Either it did, or Sherlock just used his normal observation skills, because he leaned down to do just that. 

The kiss changed everything. Well, that and Sherlock starting to tighten his inner muscles on each pull. It wasn't long before they were panting into each others' mouth, sharing breath and heat. John could feel the warm air from the heater hit his inner thighs and testicles. He started to notice how much it had warmed him up in those areas. His skin was burning hot. Sherlock was burning hot. The whole room suddenly felt hot. John dug his fingers into Sherlock's hips and thrust harder. Sherlock followed suit. The sound of skin hitting skin got louder and louder over the sound of the heater fan. The urgency came back. The tension. The need. Sherlock sat up and used his hands on John's chest as leverage to move better. He dug his nails into the skin of John's chest so hard John was half expecting to bleed by the end of it. For some reason this made him realize he wasn't the only one who was supposed to come from this. He let go of Sherlock's hip with one hand and moved it to his cock. It was hot and John felt the occasional twitch go through it. He smiled and squeezed. Sherlock groaned. John grinned and did it again, this time pulling. He briefly considered teasing, but discarded the idea. He didn't want to be mean, or pay him back. He wanted to come. He wanted them both to come. He started jerking Sherlock off, slightly faster than they were moving. It felt like it only took seconds before Sherlock's movements became tenser, and a little out of sync. John kept going, until Sherlock's entire body stiffened and quivered. Hot semen hit John's stomach and chest. Some landed on the side of his mouth, and he licked it up. The taste pushed him further toward his own release. As soon as the tension went out of Sherlock John took hold of both of his hips again and thrust with abandon. He was back at the point where the only thing that mattered was having an orgasm, and this time he would get it. Sherlock moved his hands from John's chest to his neck, and as he leaned down and sucked on John's lower lip, he also ran his thumbs up either side of John's neck; pushing into the tissue roughly. John came hard. He thought maybe he was yelling, but wasn't quite aware enough to be sure. He arched onto his toes as he emptied himself completely into Sherlock's body. 

When he came back down Sherlock was sprawled on top of him, still panting a little. John felt their heartbeats. They were not in time with each other, but that hardly mattered. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's back. He was sure the other man would have bruised hips in the morning. It wouldn't be the first time. He was warm. Sherlock was warm against him and around him. The room was warm. Everything felt good. He sighed and closed his eyes. For about 12 seconds, before he suddenly remembered why they were in the room that needed heating in the first place. He jerked and tried to sit up, but Sherlock was heavy and apparently not inclined to move.  
“Oh my god, Sherlock. The stakeout! We're supposed to be watching the street!”  
“What? Oh, no, we caught him already.” Sherlock rubbed his cheek against John's neck affectionately.  
“What?” John felt like he was missing some important information.  
“Yeah. While you were out. I called Lestrade. They took him.” Sherlock lifted himself just enough to look at John's face. “You didn't think I'd be doing something like this if we hadn't caught him, did you?”  
“I wasn't gone that long!” John tried to push Sherlock off him, and failed. He told himself he hadn't been trying all that hard.  
“We got lucky.” Sherlock kissed the side of John's mouth and lay back down. He explained the rest against his neck. “Showed up right after you left. Lestrade was waiting for the call. Didn't take them more than a few minutes to show up and take care of it.”  
“So this whole thing was over before I got back?” John barely suppressed a groan.  
“Yes.”  
“And you decided to not tell me?” The exasperation was rising again.  
“Yes.” Sherlock kissed the skin under John's ear. He was always very affectionate after sex.  
“Why?” John had an idea where this was going.  
“Um... this.” Sherlock tightened his muscles around John's now flaccid cock, that was still inside him.  
“You lied to me about catching the criminal, so you could get laid?” John sighed. He'd guessed right.  
“I didn't lie. You didn't ask.” Sherlock lifted himself up again and looked at John in a reprimanding fashion. “And, I should say, you acted highly unprofessionally in engaging in such behavior while you thought we were still on the clock.”  
John had no answer to that. He was extremely embarrassed. He shouldn't have done it. In his exasperation and lust he'd simply forgotten. 

Sherlock lifted his upper body up until he was hovering over John. He smirked.  
“I'll tell you what. I'll forgive you for being unprofessional, if you forgive me for being mean to you.”  
“You were an absolute wanker. The deal hardly seems fair.”  
“Life isn't fair, John.”  
John laughed in spite of himself. This whole thing was weird, and stupid, and just like them.  
“All right. I forgive you.”  
Sherlock grinned. John shot him a look.  
“But if you pull a thing like that again, you're going back to sleeping in your room.”  
Sherlock frowned. He hadn't slept in his own room for months. John felt the need to emphasize.  
“I mean it.”  
“All right. Deal.” Sherlock kissed him. “I won't do it again.”  
John pulled him down and kissed him properly. He could live with that deal. It was fair enough.


End file.
